The Darkest Pleasure (3 page)

Like Gilly, he had dark hair, dark eyes and honey-kissed skin. Honey mixed with melted chocolate. He also possessed that same haunted sensuality, as if he’d seen the most painful side of love and was marked forevermore.

The differences ended there, however. Reyes was tall and
stacked with a warrior’s muscle. He wore more knives than he did clothing, strapping them behind his head, on his wrists, ankles and thighs and hanging them at his waist. Every time she’d seen him, he’d been covered in combat wounds, cuts up and down his arms and legs, bruises on his face. He was a soldier to the bone.

They all were, those self-proclaimed “Lords of the Underworld.”

Lords of Nightmares,
she
called them, for of all the frightening dreams she’d had in her life, none came close to the reality of these men.

Aeron had black gossamer wings and could fly like a bird—or a malevolent dragon of lore. Lucien had multicolored eyes that swirled hypnotically just before he disappeared as if he’d never existed. The scent of roses always drifted from him, insidiously sweet.

What magical ability Reyes possessed, she didn’t know.

All she knew was that he’d saved her once. Had fought his fellow soldier for her. Why? she’d wondered so many times since. Why had he hurt his friend rather than her? Why had he looked at her as if she were his only reason for breathing? Why had he then set her free, again?

Does it matter? He’s one of them. He’s a monster. Don’t forget.

Another
ding
sounded, slicing through her thoughts. “Girls!” Enrique shouted.

Gilly moaned.

Danika massaged the back of her neck. Reprieve over. She straightened. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of her customers wave his arm in a bid for her attention. To Gilly, she said, “I’ll be at your place about…four-thirty tomorrow morning? Sound good?”

“Make it five. Yep, I’ll be tired but ready.” Gilly turned and gathered the drinks.

Danika moved off. Ten minutes of napkin and straw duty,
coffee pouring and fetching for the Bird Brothers followed. Kept her mind off Reyes, at least.

Twice, Bird One dropped his fork and needed her to fetch him a new one. Once, Bird Two needed a refill. Once he needed a clean napkin. When she tried to leave after the last delivery, Two grabbed her wrist to stop her, his touch sharpening her nerves to razor points.

She didn’t rebuke him—
every penny counts, every damn penny counts
—but politely asked what he needed and tugged free.

“We’d like to talk to you,” he said, reaching for her once more.

She stepped backward. If he touched her again, she just might snap. No longer were strangers allowed to put their hands on her. Not for any reason. “About what?”

A mother and young son strolled inside, the bell above the door tinkling to announce their arrival.

“About what?” she repeated.

“About a job. Money.”

Her eyes widened. Dear God. They thought she was a hooker? So that was what they’d meant by “someone like her.” Funny that they looked at her with disdain and yet were willing to buy her services. “No, thank you. I’m happy where I am, doing what I do.” Well, not really
happy,
but they didn’t need to know that.

“Danika,” Enrique called. “Got people waiting.”

The men glanced at the entrance and frowned. “Later,” Two said.

How about never?
Seriously. A hooker? Closer to the door than Gilly, Danika gathered two menus and ushered the new arrivals to a table. They were a little unkempt, thin, clothing stained and wrinkled. They would not be good tippers, but the smile she gave them was genuine, if a bit envious.

She missed her mother like crazy.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Water,” they said in unison.

There was a wistful gaze in the boy’s blue eyes as he stared at the soda resting on the table a few feet away from him, condensation running down the plastic. Danika’s head tilted to the side, her artist’s eye seeing the heart-wrenching possibilities of a portrait. Human desires were always simplified when all but the bare essentials were taken away.

You’re not going to paint anymore, remember?

It was too much of a luxury in this die-any-moment world. Besides, she had to
feel
to paint. Not just happiness, either. For her, painting required a wide spectrum of emotion. Fury, sadness, bliss. Hate, love, sorrow. Without them, she simply mixed colors and splattered them on a canvas. But with them, she would lose the edge she needed to stay alive.

Tamping down the sadness she couldn’t afford, she handed the pair their menus. “I’ll be back in a moment with your drinks, and then I’ll take your order.”

“Thank you,” the mother said.

On the way to the fountain, Bird Two grabbed her arm again, fingers locked in a tight grip. Danika stiffened, sparks of fury so hot under her skin she suddenly felt wrapped in flames. She couldn’t fight the emotion, couldn’t tamp it down as easily as she had the sadness. The ice she’d imagined coating her skin all these weeks melted.

“What time do you get off?”

“I don’t.”

“We’re asking for your own good. The world is a bad, bad place and unless you’re one of the bad guys, you shouldn’t be out there alone.”

“Grab me again,” she said through clenched teeth, ignoring his feigned concern, “and you’ll regret it. I’m not a hooker, and I’m not looking to make any money. Okay?”

As both gaped at her, she ripped free. She stalked away from them before she did something stupid. At the station in
back, she filled the mother and son’s drink order, her hands shaking. Her heartbeat nearly cracked her ribs.
You have to calm down.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
That’s the way.
Finally her muscles released their vise-grip on her bones.

She steered clear of the Bird Brothers on her way back to the table, remaining completely out of reach. When the mother realized she’d brought the boy a Coke, she opened her mouth to protest but Danika stopped her with a raised hand—a still-shaking hand, she realized with surprise. Hadn’t calmed from Two’s touch, then. Another deep breath in, another deep breath out.

“On the house,” she whispered. Enrique gave nothing away, not even to his waitresses, and would deduct the dollar ninety-seven from Danika’s pay if he heard. “If it’s okay that he has it, that is.”

The boy’s expression lit with happiness. “It’s okay, right, Mom? Please, please, please.”

The mother gave Danika a grateful smile. “It’s okay. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Know what you want to order?” She withdrew the pad and pencil from her apron. Her hand had stopped shaking, but the muscles were so rigid she accidentally snapped the pencil in two. “Oops. Sorry.” More carefully, she dug out the spare.

The pair placed their order, and as she wrote she scanned the diner. Another family had just walked in. She gave them only a cursory inspection. Less and less, she jumped when people entered. First few days here, she’d expected Reyes to stalk through the door, throw her over his shoulder and steal into the night with her.

Gilly motioned the family to the only other available booth, her gaze catching Danika’s. They shared a tired smile. Danika’s felt brittle, her nervous system clearly still raw from Two’s touch.
You know you can’t react like this. You have to be prepared, ready for anything.

“Did you get that?” the woman asked her.

She returned her attention to her customer. “Yes. Two hamburgers, one plain, one with everything, both with fries.”

The woman nodded. “Great. Thanks.”

“I’ll get this turned in. Shouldn’t take too long to get it cooked.” Danika tore the page from her pad and marched toward Enrique.

Bird One grabbed her this time. “Look. We don’t think you’re a prostitute. We just want to talk to you. Bad things are headed your way.”

Before she could stop it, instinct took over. In her mind, she saw her sister’s panicked face the night they’d been snatched from their hotel room and carted to that fortress, prisoners of the monsters. She heard her mother’s voice in her head:
Your grandmother might be dead. Might have been murdered.

Red clouded her vision and fury returned full force, morphing her from woman to berserker.
Attack! Never helpless again!
She slammed her free hand into the man’s nose. Cartilage broke on contact, and blood poured onto his shirt, his plate. He howled in pain, tenting his hands over his face.

In the wake of that howl, there was a heavy silence. Then someone dropped a cup.
Clang, splash.
Liquid gurgled over the tiled floor. Someone cursed. All of the sounds boomed like thunder, piercing her mind and jerking her out of the vengeful haze.

Danika’s mouth fell open.

Two gasped, his eyes widening. He jumped up, breath sawing in and out. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch?”

“I—I—” A tremor rolled through her entire body. She stood frozen, fighting panic. She’d just brought attention to herself. A lot of it, and none of it good. “I—I told you guys not to touch me.”

“You assaulted him!” Looming menacingly, the uninjured man settled his hands atop her shoulders and shoved her backward.

She could have stopped him from pushing her, could have
shoved her pencil in his jugular before stumbling away. She didn’t. Mortification blended with regret and both tumbled through her, overshadowing any lingering hint of fury.
Where’s your numbness now?

“You know what?” he said, snarling at her. “You’re just like them. ‘She might be innocent,’ I was told, ‘so be careful with her. Be gentle.’ I didn’t believe it, not for a second, but I obeyed. Shouldn’t have. You just proved how despicable you really are. Maybe you’re a whore after all—
their
whore.”

You’re just like them,
he had said. Just like who? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I—” There was nothing she could say to make this better. Clearing her throat, she smoothed the wrinkles from her sweater. Blood must have splattered her palm because streaks of crimson appeared everywhere her hands touched. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Someone call 9-1-1, for fuck’s sake!”

Oh, God
. She was going to have to run again, when she’d only just settled in. If this made the papers…
Oh, God,
she thought again. Her heart once more began slamming against her ribs.

Enrique stomped out of the kitchen, double doors swinging behind him. He was a big man, both tall and overweight, and utterly imposing. His thinning hair fell into his narrowed eyes as he barked, “You, little girl, are fired. And that’s the least of your problems. Go to the back and wait ’til the cops get here.”

Of course she was fired. And deep down, she knew he was going to stiff her for today’s work. “I’ll go,” she lied, “just as soon as you pay me. You owe me for—”

“You’ll march back there now! You’re scaring the customers.”

Danika’s gaze moved through the diner and landed on the mother and son. The woman had one arm locked protectively around the boy while the other pushed away the Coke Danika had given him. Both were staring at her in fear.
Me? But I was merely defending myself.

Her eyes moved away, and Gilly came into focus. Concern radiated from the girl’s face as she approached, obviously meaning to support Danika. She’d lose her job and today’s pay, as well, and Danika couldn’t allow that.

“I’ll wait for the police at my apartment,” she lied.

“No, you won’t,” Enrique said. “You’ll—”

Turning, she marched from the diner, head high, shoulders squared. Thankfully, no one tried to stop her, not even Bird Two. The night was warm, lit with neon signs and crowded. She felt as if she were spotlighted in the glare and everyone she passed was staring at her.

God, what was she going to do?

She quickened her pace, almost running. She had forty dollars in her pocket. Enough for a bus ticket somewhere. Where should she go? Georgia, maybe. The peach state was a good distance away. More importantly, she would pass through Oklahoma. She could search for her grandmother.

The thought had barely registered before something slammed into her back, propelling her into a darkened alley. She hit the pavement with so much force, oxygen whooshed from her lungs. Rocks cut past her thin sweater and T-shirt and into her skin. Her jaw cracked against the concrete. Bright white stars glittered behind her lids.

“Demon bitch!” a man growled at her temple, spittle spraying into her hair. Bird Two. Hadn’t let her escape, after all. “Did you really think I’d let you run again? You’re ours and, baby, you’re going to suffer just like your friends. I’m not allowed to kill them, but you…you’ll beg for it.”

Instinct once again kicked into gear.
Don’t scream, just fight. Don’t react, just strike.
The words had been drilled into her mind and now seemed as much a part of her as her arm or leg. When her assailant grabbed her by the hair, lifting her, she spun of her own accord. Her scalp stung as the hairs ripped free, but that didn’t slow her as she jabbed her arm forward to cut off
his airway and buy herself enough time to slip free while he gasped for breath.
Contact.

There was a grunt, a wail. His hold on her loosened.

Warm liquid ran down her fingers, pooling in her knuckles. What the—realization clattered through her. She’d still been gripping the pencil and she’d shoved the tip deep into his jugular—just as she’d stopped herself from doing in the diner.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” Dazed, she scrambled to her feet. She swayed and had to grab on to his shoulders to stay upright. Horror nearly drowned her as the man fell to his knees, gurgling.

Moonlight seeped past the buildings surrounding him, highlighting his pale, pain-filled,
shocked
features. He tried to speak, but no sound emerged.

“I’m sorry!” She splayed her fingers, releasing him completely. She held up her hands, palms out, and the blood poured down her arms. Panic blended with her horror. There was no precious numbness to be found. Not now.